


Standards

by sentimentsandsemblance (orphan_account)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sentimentsandsemblance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kicked out of home, Cato turned to the only one who could shelter him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standards

** DISCLAIMER: THE ENDING IS BASED LOOSELY FROM THE GAY SHORT FILM "TRIPLE STANDARDS" BY BRENDAN BLINN. THE ENDING AND CHARACTERS ARE NOT OWNED BY ME. **

* * *

 

** STANDARDS **

It wasn't a surprise that most people would lose their jobs in an instant, what more to say you lose your foundation, family and also part of your dignity. Cato may not have the best days as he had expected, but he had never thought that losing his wife and children in the hands of divorce would be  _that_  heart-wrenching. His friends knew that, and who wouldn't? People's perception in their late twenties are far more developed that the adolescents. Break ups are like divorces, only this time it excludes the paperwork, documents and the money needed to pay for an attorney. Some move on, some don't, but you can't take back the money that you had invested for someone, like the ring, the suit and wedding gown for the nuptials have all gone to waste. You can always get it back through the job, but the purpose, well, that's crying over spilt milk.

Cato, now in his car, had only his phone and belongings from the house. The divorce, whom he had never expected to be such a rough blow because as divorce, custody should be mediated, but his wife, Clove, wasn't giving room for such arbitration. She practically, if not, basically kicked him out, telling him to stay out of the confines of his newly divorced wife and fatherless children. And just when things couldn't get any worse, it was raining, how apt for the predicament he was already embroiled. Clutching the steering wheel in frustration, anger and confusion, he scrunched his eyebrows and his mind was wracking on where to go. He could go to his parents' house, if the house were even occupied since his parents were rarely present at the house anyway. He didn't want to risk it anyway, since his parents would go livid about his divorce, and to them, divorce would ruin his parens't so called reputation. He could always hang out with Marvel, but no. Imposing on him and his wife, Glitter would only make him feel guilty and wrong. Groaning in irritation, he looked up to the roof of his car interior and finally realized on one person he could think of.

Calling and driving for hours were getting scarce. People he could think of, from friends to colleagues were all giving similar response, "Sorry, dude. Can't help you out there," to "That's tough, man,". It was dispiriting. Seeing the countless rejection from them was making Cato's cool wavering progressively. He still had his bank account, but he doubted that he would be able to survive by living in motels and budget inns alone. Couple that with groceries and toiletries every month and he would be deemed bankrupt and broke.

He drove all the way to the motel and parked his car, deactivating his vehicle before composing his mind and ruminating on his future choices and decisions. He was going to his house and settle for maybe a few days. He picked up his phone and scrolled through contacts, going to the 'P' letter, and tapped onto the name. His mind was praying mentally, expectant for the ringing to cease and the sound of the receiver, and hear the voice.

 _Should have known. This number is way too old, probably._ As he was about give up, Cato was about to put the phone down, when received a voice at the end of the line, "Hello?"

"..."

"Hello?"

"P-Peeta?" rasped Cato.

"Yeah? Who is this?" replied Peeta.

"It's Cato. Remember me? USC circa 2008?" said Cato desperately, his grip on the steering wheel become tighter, it was almost painful.

"Ah, yeah. Hadley, right?" he asked earnestly.

"Yeah!" he said excitedly as if he had won the lottery. He felt his hope was being renewed.

"What's up?" asked Peeta.

"Uhhh, you're not by any chance, with people, are you?"

"I'm alone. Always have been for the past couple of years," he replied nonchalantly. Something about that reply tugged Cato's heart. It was faint and wasn't easily sensed by Cato. It just... Tugged.

"Umm, you don't mind me crashing in for a few days, right? I'm kinda in a tight situation here," he said.

"Yeah, sure. Could sure as hell use the company, rarely get one these days," answered Peeta, bringing a flutter of hope to Cato. He knew it was a burden, but some burden couldn't be helped, "I'll text you the address, it's by the Merchant Street,"

"Got it," Cato said before hanging the phone up, bringing a deluge of relief that his pleas were now answered and blessed in the form of Peeta Mellark. He soon received a text from Peeta, with an address in its contents. Without wasting another second, he reversed his vehicle, and dashed towards the address. The rain was pouring heavily, but did little to impede Cato's progress to Peeta's house. He couldn't wait to have a hot shower to relieve all of the turmoil that had been supervened in the last few hours. The divorce, loss of kids' custody which was inevitable and him being basically proscribed from his very extremity of what he had established as a family was enervating. Not to mention, harrowing since it all occurred so quickly. He drove and drove, ignoring the fact that the road was lubricated by the rain itself. It was a small price to pay for what happened today.

He soon arrived Merchant Street, and man, was it impoverished. Houses basically built from woods and makeshift bricks, it was no wonder there were many articles relating the said street was revered as disgusting and sickening. The filth would be the first one would observe first. The street was basically roadless, and with good reason too. There were hardly any vehicles in such a destitute province of the city. The worst part was, that they dubbed the area as District 12. Why, you may ask? They named the provinces of the Panem according to the wealth of the place itself. There weren't much discrimination going on in Panem and the furthest extent of that was only segregating the areas according to the district ranks, and guess who gotten last place? District 12. Being one of, if not the most, undeveloped areas in Panem brought little people to even visit nor promenade the area, unless you are really bored out of your wits, that would be understandable.

However, some people go there for other reason. Being the most undeveloped areas didn't mean it had to be eradicated off of Panem. The area apparently made up for its incompetency for coal mining. Coal was really essential for the country and President Snow, the ruler who governs the country, said it would be a shame to look down on such precious resource, and he was right. Without it, many of the places wouldn't be working by now. Your transportation, your food and even your goddamn fireplace would be basically useless and dearth of in this place, therefore, giving the country its reluctance as to accept District 12 for what it is. A poor industrial area.

That's not all. Cato, who works at a successful business, had heard rumours that if you were poor, or out of money, you'd end up there, because although the people are poor and distrustful towards society today – which was pardonable – they weren't as heartless as District 1, Marvel's residence. They wouldn't mind taking in people, and Cato, whom seemed to have undervalue that, couldn't help feel guilty for even belittling such community.

Despite its... lack of qualities that District 12 have, it has its secrets. In the said district, there is an area where it holds the richest people. By rich, I mean, crazy, filthy – pun intended – rich. So far, only four people have actually owned such luxury. Based on Cato's knowledge, he remembered that Katniss Everdeen, who was known for being a famous archer, lived here. Next was Effie Trinket, who was illustrious for her work of art, too lives here. Besides, Haymitch Abernathy, who was recognized for discovering the flaws of many devices in technologies today, lives here, but has since become a recluse. Some bastard, from what he had heard, killed his family and girlfriend for his contributions. Jealousy, as one would assume it.

But he had never, not once, thought that Peeta Mellark would live here.

As Cato drove his vehicle towards the direction pointed out by Peeta, he then realized that he was driving towards the Victor's Village (as the public calls it). The house were really huge and lavish but due to the pouring weather, it made things seem a little bleak, but recognizable in size terms notwithstanding. Three of the houses had the lights turned on, and from Cato's vantage point, he could already tell the one unlit belongs to Haymitch. He drove slowly and passed soon arrived the house at the far end. It was well lit and he could see the silhouette traversing between room to room. Peeta.

Grabbing his bag and unzipping it, he pulled out a hoodie and wore it inside the car. The downpour was still persistent and he held his items tightly, and counted to three, preparing to leave the house as quickly as possible. Quick enough to get his hoodie wet, yes, but not his belongings.

He opened the door and immediately slammed the door and ran with a speed of lightning to the front door. He gave a soft utter of thanks for the small roof that was above him. However, the rain was clever. The assistance of the wind pushed the rain to dampen his clothes and Cato, now desperate, knocked the door hurriedly and was soon ushered in by the figure that he had not enough time to examine. The samaritan closed the door and Cato dumped his dampened bag onto the floor.

"You made it," said the samaritan. Cato, now relieved with the complete shelter turned to see the figure clad in a white tank top, a brown pair of pants and an apron tucked in his pants. He pants were dusted with flour and Cato could already guess that he was baking prior to his arrival. Blue eyes stared at him in content and worry.

Peeta Mellark.

"Let me get you a towel," said Peeta as he left the room. Cato looked at the interior. It was lavish, he could say that but not as lavish as the people living in District 1. Oh, who is he kidding? It's way better than than District 1's residents. The living room was facilitated with couches that were extravagant. The furnitures, definitely out of mahogany, were placed around the house in a neat manner, almost untouched. His wet hand caressed the furniture tentatively and Cato, whom had been used to the grand lifestyle before his harsh banishment from his ex-wife, felt a little uneasy. He could not say it but, if he had known any better, he was almost traumatized. Shocked that his life was turbulent in the span of two years. He was now 27, and the scar that was unbeknownst to his consciousness, ached with intensity.

"Hey. I got you your towel," said Peeta from behind. The words brought Cato out of his woolgathering. He saw the white, soft material in his hands, stretched out to him. Cato grabbed the towel and nodded his thanks before drying himself. He dried himself and soon met his eyes with the blue orbs.

"So, what brings you here?" asked Peeta. Cato was stuck. He wasn't going to tell Peeta his reason why he was here so he settled for the lie that was smoothest for him, "Uh, you know. Just wanna catch up. Old time's sake, you know?"

Peeta looked at Cato with a doubtful expression, "Well, the guest room is upstairs, first door to your left. Your bag's wet by the way. There's some clothes in the room for your use," said Peeta, "Umm, I'll get these clothes cleaned for you," he said before picking the soggy bag up and leaving the living room. Cato did not say anything, and heeded the words from his former college mate. He climbed up the stairs and found the door that was prepared for him. The room was simple. A queen sized bed, with sheets probably made from the finest qualities and an en suite bathroom was adjacent to the bed. Closing the door and turning the light on, he paced around the room and examined the interior. He entered the bathroom and stripped his clothes off. The wedding ring etched in his finger was removed and was placed by the sink. The shower was extremely satisfying, as it mostly removed all the stress in his mind. The cascade of water was soothing.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and couldn't wait to turn in. The urge to feel the softness of the bed was overwhelming and he went over to the wardrobe and donned a pair of boxers and collected his ring from the sink. The ring was both a reminder of the good and bad. The bad seemed to outweigh the good though as the recent memories of being kicked out was still fresh in his mind. Not wanting to re-explore such memories again, he placed the ring underneath the pillow and tucked himself into bed, hoping that whatever had happened was merely a dream.

" _Get out, Cato!" shouted Clove._

" _Clove, you can't be serious!" yelled Cato back to his wife._

" _I don't care, Cato. I want you to stay out of our lives. The children from now on are not yours to deal with. I will take responsibility and if I have to face this alone, then so be it,"_

** STANDARDS **

Cato woke up, feeling refreshed. However, the fact that he was not in his own bed, brought every memory of the events transpired in a flash. He groaned at the bombardment of memories and he soon got out the bed. Heading to the bathroom, he washed his face repeatedly. It was merely a small way to remove the memories that were indelible to his mind. He then got a shirt from the wardrobe and opened the window. The rain had subsided but it was still cloudy. The drizzle of the rain was obvious and to be honest, it was a great weather to wake up to. Through his nose, he could smell the waft of baked breads and pastries from his position. The smell was real strong, almost unavoidable. As if the place was permeated of the said scent. The smell not only awoken Cato's senses but also the rumble in his stomach. The hunger was becoming crazed and opening the bedroom door open, he left the room and clambered down the stairs and headed for the fountain of the freshly baked scent. Waking up to the cloudy weather was one thing, but having baked pastries and jam filling your senses next? That was just the worst. It was the perfect hell – or in his case, heaven – for him.

The scent of the freshly burned pastries brought Cato to the kitchen and spotted Peeta, his back facing him. He was busy kneading the dough that was placed in front of him.

"You're awake," said Peeta, not turning to face him.

"'Morning," said Cato.

"Morning," he greeted back, hands still on the dough, "Pancakes ready for you on the table, and the milks and juices are in the fridge. Help yourself. I will join you in a minute,"

Giving a hum acknowledgement to the younger blond, he headed to the fridge, open the door and went to search for the carton of orange juice. The interior wasn't packed, which was surprising for Peeta, since from the view of his body, he looked like he would require more than what was inside the fridge. Without thinking further, he took out the carton of orange juice and grabbed himself a glass that was already laid on the dining counter. He poured the contents and closed the cap off the carton. He sat, and grabbed the utensils on the table, and took a slice of the pancake before consuming it. He couldn't contain the moan of appreciation eliciting out of his mouth. The syrup and batter that touched his taste buds alerted his senses to continue eating.

It wasn't long later he realized that he had finished his stack of pancakes on his plate. Still famished from the lack of food last night, Peeta came in, bringing another basket of pastries on the table, "I'll get the jams," he said laconically. Cato nodded and picked the bread in his hand, feeling the warmth coursing through the surface of the skin. Splitting the bread in half, he inhaled the fresh smell of the bread and was pleased with the freshness. The quality was outstanding.

Peeta joined him at the counter after collecting the jams and they both sat and ate in companionable silence. There wasn't any awkwardness circling the air, only a sense of stoic – a little too strong, sadly – sense of silence. Cato needed to explain his true intentions of being around Peeta's quarters and he couldn't risk going to his friend's home, knowing that it will only cause words to spread. By Cato's judgment, he figured that Clove already told his friends, since his connections have become hers, anyway.

"So," said Cato, breaking the silence, "Great place you got here,"

Peeta shrugged his shoulders, "It's nothing much, to be honest," he said humbly before taking a bite of the passionfruit jam lathered bread into his mouth.

"Nothing much? Looks more than that," said Cato disbelievingly, "I didn't know you were the fourth one to claim the residence in the Victor's Village. You must have done something to get here,"

"I guess," he replied simply. Cato could tell it wasn't a topic Peeta was comfortable speaking about, and Cato dropped the subject, thinking it wasn't best to start something unwell between the two.

"So, you're alone, huh?" asked Cato, hoping the subject would alleviate the tension.

Nodding his head in agreement, Peeta replied, "Yup, 3 years already. Nothing new has happened, but I guess things could have been better,"

"You're not with your family?" Cato almost felt like punching himself as he saw the younger blond's body stiffened at the question.  _Bad move, Hadley. Bad move._  "Umm, you need help around here? Like cleaning or anything?" asked Cato quickly, hoping to save their 10 hours of reunion.

"You don't have to help," said Peeta tersely in a guilt-ridden voice, "Orphaned," was all he added. Cato could see the shoulders relaxing, and he couldn't help but praise himself for at least gathering something about his life.

"I don't mind," said Cato earnestly, eluding the conversation about him being an orphan, "I feel like I'm dead weight here if I stay here,"

"Well, you can make yourself comfortable here. It wouldn't feel like you are imposing. That would be enough," rejoined Peeta.

"At least let me do something. I'm sorry if this seemed abrupt to you and all. I fell asleep yesterday without us catching up.,"

Peeta's eyes met Cato's for a moment before settling back down to the pastry, "It's okay though. You looked like you needed it, and I did not want to disturb your rest," reasoned Peeta.

The silence thickened for a moment, before Cato blurted out, "I got kicked out," Cato mentally chastised himself for revealing that he had lied. Stillness followed then before Cato replied, "Clove would not let me come back anymore. Does not want me around the children anymore,"

Glancing up from the table, with the blue eyes meeting Cato's. Cato simply stared back, attempting to read his emotions behind his pupils. It was hard to decipher and he couldn't help but feel slightly disconcerted by the stare commixed with the noiselessness. He didn't utter a word for a moment, bring Cato to feel like he was being scrutinized until, "I suppose you can help me carry the bags of flour outside," he suggested.

Nodding quietly, they both continued their breakfast.

** STANDARDS **

Cato sat on the bed, with his phone in his hand. He needed to call Clove, convince her that what she had done was a bad move. The fact that she demanded for a divorce was really abrupt and Cato couldn't help but needed to ask why. The argument and the stumble of his bags being laid out outside his house just made Cato far more befuddled that before. However, he could not help but feel that his efforts would go in vain and he lowered the phone in his hand slightly in defeat. The highest probability that he will get through his attempts in calling his ex-wife now would only consists of voice messages, and disconnected lines. He sighed and couldn't help but feel worthless. What had he done wrong? He did not cheat, that was for sure and he certainly did not perform any other form of infidelities to his wife.

Groaning in frustration, he paced in his new bedroom and went over to the window. The outside was only filled with forest trees. The ocean of trees provided a sense of seclusion and privacy. Something that Cato treasures whole heartedly. District 1 and 2 are always intermingling, and with District 1's residents being nosy and snoopy on a daily basis, Cato rarely enjoyed being the centre of attention.  _If only that was simple._  Cato couldn't bask in that lifestyle. His presence was basically caused men to either stare at him in awe or jealousy, women to ogle him, understandable withal, since his physique was the one elevating his reputation. He could always sense the girls staring at him like he was the hottest piece of meat. Despite that, he never boast about it, nor showcased his physiques to make anyone infuriated. He had a small social circle, and most strangers that had interacted with him were surprised of the kindness and gentleman aura that he had exuded and evoked towards them. He knows that as a person with such built, people would think he would act like a douche or some form of a self-conceited jock but he never once acted like that. He had a fucking Masters in Business Administration and most jocks would mostly get scholarships in sports. And his wife, Clove. Vain, yes, even that Cato can admit honestly, but he had never, not once, gone as far as to think that he was her property. He had boundaries.

Exhaling, he glanced down to the courtyard that was within Cato's vision. The mop of blond hair was unmistakable as he saw Peeta lifting sacks of flour from the back of the house.  _That idiot,_ Cato thought. He threw his phone onto the bed and rushed to aid Peeta, clamouring the stair steps with heavy thumps, wasting little to no time. He passed the kitchen and went to the back door, exiting there and went to search for the blond. Before he could make his first step out on the ground, he knocked Peeta down, and Cato was laying on top of him, the impact unfortunately pushing the two blonds down along with the two sacks of flour. They both moaned in pain and Cato moved his head to meet Peeta's. The younger blond was squinting his eyebrows in pain but it was receded when he laid his eyes onto Cato's. His breath fanned onto his the chiseled cheeks of Cato and Peeta could feel goosebumps ticking and erecting onto the surface of his skin. He examined in awe and scrutiny at his face. The nose, the natural bone structure that made his face as godly beautiful as it is, and his eyes then trailed to the lips of his. The lips that were slightly parted allowing a small amount of exhaled air to ghost past his cheeks and front face.

Before he could even let anymore awkwardness seep through the ambience, Peeta cleared his throat and shifted, trying to signal to the older man that he was literally sandwiching him with the ground and his body. Aware of the break in stupor, Cato lifted himself up but not without blushing. He stood up and dusted himself off before assisting Peeta to stand up. Peeta grabbed the hand that was rendered gratefully, and he soon stood up, with his hands clearing the dirt and dust that marred the pristine white shirt of his.

"Sorry," said Cato gracelessly.

"It's okay," rejoined Peeta with an honest tone.  
"I told you I wanted to help, so I rushed down," explained Cato.

"I didn't want to disturb you, so I figured I did it myself,"

"You shouldn't. I offered, and I stand by my words. At least let me earn my keep here," he pleaded with earnestness and conviction. Peeta nodded obediently at the words before going back to pick up the fallen sacks of flour. "Nope, I'll do it. Why don't you freshen up?"

"There's still more of these I need to collect from the truck," protested Peeta.

"I'll get them for you. Just clean yourself up and I'll meet you later in the house," said Cato with finality. Peeta obeyed the words reluctantly and stood like a tree, watching the blond beau carrying the heavy sacks inside the house. He then moved, but with heaviness in his boots. He didn't like asking his visitors – well, visitor – to help him. Sighing, he entered the house and went upstairs to his room. Located just next door of Cato's room, he entered and unclothe his shirt and jeans before going dumping them onto the chair inside. His feet stepped onto the cold tile of the bathroom and his body shivered at the contact. However, in hindsight, there were multiple things that shivered him.

** STANDARDS **

The sack of flour was carried effortlessly by Cato as he picked them up from the truck that Peeta had mentioned.  _What the hell just happened?_ He wasn't gay nor was he in the slightest queer but the feeling had set tingles and goose pimples on his skin. Like a spark that just made you want to feel it more rather than actually abstain from it. Picking the last sack of flour into the house, he sent the sack and placed it inside the storage unit located in the kitchen. Dusting himself off the flour painting his shirt, he left and closed the door, a wave of satisfaction that he has done something to earn his keep in the house.

Heading upstairs, he was about to head to his room until he saw the door next to his open. With curiosity getting the best of him, he peeked through the door, only to see the room that was as similar as Cato's, only that it was slightly larger, and the had the presence of bare skin in the room.

The skin of Peeta's was gripping Cato's mind like a vice. His attention couldn't be diverted nor could it be dissuaded as the sight was beautiful. He felt like a pervert, eyeing on the toned muscles of Peeta's back. He was thankful of the lack of awareness from the younger blond as he dropped the towel that was wrapped around his waist, revealing the nape and eventual censored of his butt crack. It was visible but only by a few mere centimetres. Cato's mind was chanting to back out but his attempts proved almost futile as his body was not heeding to its motherboard. Watching the younger blond opening the door of his wardrobe and closing it with an audible thud, Cato's mind snapped out of its trance and he immediately brisked to his room, to avoid the contingency of both awkwardness and embarrassment. He opened his door as stealthy as possible and closed it, hopeful that his moves would not attract Peeta's attention. He sighed and mentally calmed his palpitating heart. His mind was castigating him, telling him that he was not gay. Had never been and will never be. His mind was rejecting the idea of being with a guy that his body seem to harbour an attraction for. He sat down on the floor, with his back leaned against the door. He placed his hands on his face, covering them almost in shame and in shock. He needed to get his act straight, especially in view of the fact that it had only been a day since his arrival and stay. Unable to get over it, he stood up, went to the bed and laid there with his mind ceaselessly praying that this 'phase' would be over and terminated. And with that said, he shut his eyes, and the heart that had a rate of a running motor petered to normal.

** STANDARDS **

Peeta left his room, ambled to the guest room, where Cato had been staying for the past day. Opening the door, he saw the body laid across the bed, sleeping soundly. His mind chastised internally for stumbling him at the wrong time like an interloper. All he understood of his sudden arrival was the fact that he was recently divorced and his wife had by and large, kicked him out, ex-communicating him from his family. He did not question it, nor did he had the heart to either. It was not in his place to do so, and thus, kept himself silent most of the time. The house that he had been living right now had been neglected and void of any proper guest.  _Should have cleaned this place, though._

He slowly entered the room, and walked to examine the sleeping beau. Sitting down next to him on the bed, he could hear the calm breathing from the man and couldn't help but smile.  _Strange,_  he thought. He had not smile for a while.

Not since 7 years ago.

_Peeta entered the grand room, excited for the day. It wasn't the class that incited such ebullience nor was it the topic of the class that was going to be lectured. It was one man, and only one soul._

_Cato Hadley._

_Cato Hadley, whom Peeta had no idea of his background story at first glance, caught Peeta's attention the very first time. It was not because of the stereotypical jock kind of look. He was not raised to be superficial. He was taught to love people by looking at them from their body language, their inflections, and the way they carry themselves. Looking at Cato, it was all mesmerizing._

_He entered the room, and internally pilloried himself for acting like a high school girl, clearing admiring the view from the bleachers watching the football players admiring the way they move, flex and etcetera. He sat down at the far back of the class, knowing that his attempts at multi-tasking his actions of admiring Cato from behind and listening attentively to the class would not be in futile. What many of the students in the class know was that Peeta was actually the underdog. The professors in the faculty had high expectations on Peeta as he had skipped his grade a few times, not to mention actually being the most astute in class. Most of the time, the professors knew that Peeta was not into the limelight. Just seeing the first time he entered the class and sitting at the far back of the class made it all clear that Peeta had no entailment or investment to be noticed by such a large crowd. They respected his choice and with that said nothing about his inquisitiveness to the other students, knowing that it will induce slackers. He rarely displayed nor bragged his intelligence to people. Besides, he did not really have a wide circle of friends._

_Actually, he almost had none. Most just come across as acquaintances. The scenario he had come across were only two, where one, people only needed his help if he had ever completed a work, which was a big step because now, Peeta sends his work before the assignment was ever assigned and to avoid the typical bullies in campus. Oh yeah, they are bullies in campus. And two, where they overlooked him, thinking that the quiet one was always the dumbest, which was a relief to Peeta, as them overlooking was his gain and their loss. He did not really care if it was their loss. Mind as well never enrolled in the first place._

_Every time he entered the class there was always a mop of blond hair that made him distinct than the other counterparts, partly because he was a six foot man and mostly because he was the popular one, but the way he handled the popularity, that took him aback. It was refreshing, to see someone was the antithesis of a celebrity. He was not necessarily of a recluse, but he was certainly one to fritter his time for the spotlight. He, out of most people who received attention, prefers privacy and with that only fuels Peeta's desire to be close with him more._

_Sitting there at the back of the class, he reminisces that he wished he had made a move to get him but he was a coward, as he liked to put it._

_But despite being a coward, Cato knew that Peeta was the smartest and he never looked to him as an accomplice. He looked at him as a friend._

_That made Peeta happy._

_Cato knew that he had weaknesses, because hey, being popular does not mean you're gifted with knowledge of everything. He had always been resourceful, and asking professors would only be a hassle to both parties as professors have hectic schedules and Cato was not into being really patient nor does he want to interrupt their time. Libraries were one thing, but if you can't read between the lines, then you are out of options._

_Ask the smartest kid._

_It wasn't hard to find the smartest kid, since one of his professors had given him intel that was solely rewarded to his industriousness regarding Peeta's intelligence. Cato was not surprised that the quiet one would helm the tile and so, he trusted the seasoned lecturer's words and scouted the campus for him._

_It was no surprise that the simplest place was at the library, laying down on the floor, lounging whilst reading a book._

" _Peeta, right?"_

_Lowering the book, Peeta was stunned but thank goodness his espionage skills were up to par as he coolly asked, "Yes?"_

" _Cato Hadley. You're the dude that sits at the back of the class right?"_

_Peeta's mind was wracking. It was surprising that the blond beau actually paid attention to his surroundings, particularly at the back of the class, where most people at the front would give two shits about. Trying to retain his hold of his facade, he nodded meekly._

" _Look, uh... I feel like I'm using you but I was wondering if you could help me with this exam. I really want to pass this test," he pleaded in an almost desperate tone._

_Giving a hard look because of the same plea he had been receiving from past mates, he nodded silently at his request and stood up, placing the book into the shelf and walked off to the nearest table with Cato._

" _So, where do you wanna start?" said Peeta without meeting Cato's eye line. The entire conversation went on with Peeta guiding Cato with the multiple requests regarding the courses. It was a surprise that Peeta managed to get his head straight. Barely was more like it. Cato's mind was becoming more relaxed at the fact that his comprehension was becoming more clear, and he knew he had to owe Peeta something, obviously he can afford whatever he requires,_

_Hours later, the library was becoming more and more scarce of people. It was getting late and Peeta needed to return back to his room and so did Cato, Packing up, Cato asked the younger blond, "So what do I owe you?"_

_Peeta looked back at the taller man with a poker face._

" _I mean, is there anything I can give or owe you?"_

_Peeta would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want anything, that was sure. All he wanted was Cato. Anything besides him wasn't a necessity to him. He simply shook his head silently at the man's proposition._

" _C'mon, at least something," Cato asked pleadingly._

_Figuring that Cato would not take no for an answer, "You could always just be my friend, that's all," was all he said._

_The surprised look embossed on Cato's face was quite the sight. Peeta couldn't help but laugh at it, but with every trace of restrain he could gather, he barely suppress the said desire._

" _Sure, uhh.. I could always get your number. I mean, in case I have some events or outings that need me to invite," said Cato as he ripped a piece of paper and fishing out a pen from his bag. Writing his number slowly, he handed the paper back, before saying their goodbyes and then split up._

It was disappointing.

He rarely contacted him despite the outings and events were made for him but Peeta never was a desperate man. He was patient, and he knew where to place his expectations. He did not expect things to change in a blink. So he decided to wait.

And wait he did.

He brushed the older blond's hair that covered his forehead partially to the side and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. He smiled at the soft moan incited from the older man. He sat there for a while, and examined his relaxed complexion of Cato's face. He felt at peace from where he was sleeping. Standing up, he slowly left the room and closed the door, without waking Cato up.

He descended the staircase, and left the sleeping man to his dreams.

** STANDARDS **

Days had turned to weeks and weeks nearly turned into a month. Cato was becoming more and more tense and incensed at the idea that his ex-wife would not call for anything. It was just maddening. Surely, there was at least something the lady could give Cato to do or offer. If she was obstinate and adamant on not giving a proper explanation, so be it, but surely their children would be asking her of their father's presence. The silence given by Peeta was definitely not helping. He knew that Peeta was reserved, – a little too reserved – but surely moral support was all he could offer.

However, he had to remember, he's an orphan. He's not even sure whether he had a girlfriend, or any partner in his life. It was weird that he would receive a place like the Victor's Village after college. He was just mostly silent.

That was aggravating.

What can he say? He would expect some sort of condolence towards his bitter predicament and the fact that he had been evicted from his house without question. He did not like the silence that Peeta had been giving him the entire time and Cato, being the sensitive one behind the wall of muscles he calls his body, he took the silence as a form of indifference.

Walking into the kitchen, he saw the young man stirring something in a pot, which Cato assumed would be dinner and he immediately blurt out, "Don't you feel at least a tiny bit sorry for me?"

The stirring stopped.

Peeta turned to the man with eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Pardon?" he asked.

"I mean, don't you at least see that I'm broken? That I have no proper home? That my wife had basically kicked me out of my own quarter?" he exclaimed with vexation. Peeta looked at the older man with an intense gaze that Cato could not help but not only feel disconcerted, but also turned on by the beautiful blue eyes of his. The silence that was subsequent made Cato ask himself mentally what set of cogs does the young man have in his mind to keep on gazing at him like that while thinking deeply.

Peeta turned back to stirring and said nothing back. Cato could not help it. He felt both surprised and angry at him.

"You know what? Fine. Keep being like that. Just because you're living in the Victor's Village, does not mean you can put up this holier-than-thou facade," he berated before leaving the kitchen and headed to his room, slamming the door with a long bang. He grunted in exasperation and sat on his bed, muttering expletives about Peeta and how much of a fucker life was getting to him. The idea of someone whom he had known since college days was supposed to be the tantamount of a brotherly affection.

Not this impassive, awkward, incensing one.

He sighed deeply and mentally counted himself to relieve himself off the tension that built up from the kitchen. However, by doing so, he could not help but only feel the guilt washing over him like a broken dam, deluging its' waters and hitting him hard.  _What was I thinking,_  Cato thought. Peeta was not married. He's an orphan. A lonely one, at that. What he had impulsively done was his one way ticket to more tension and Cato could not help but kick himself for being the massive, sensitive idiot he had been.

As he was about to leave the room to the kitchen, a ringing tone filled the silence and overtook the thumps of his footsteps against the hard, wooden floor. Cato, who had been acting as immature as a toddler picked the phone up from the nightstand and read the caller ID illuminating on the screen.

His wife.

** STANDARDS **

Peeta kept stirring the contents of the pot as he heard the door slam. Not out of indifference but more like in exasperation. He was basically fuming upon hearing the insinuations shouted at him by Cato. He was surprised of the restraint used when he was stirring. He could feel himself boiling in agony and misery.

It was not his idea to be quiet. He had wanted to say something about his predicament, but who is he anyway? He wasn't the one with the family, nor is he the one married either. All he could was just stand there and say nothing.

And Peeta hated ever inch of himself. For being powerless. Useless. And essentially, in rarest times, incapable of doing anything.

But all Peeta could do now was stir.

Just stir.

** SRANDARDS **

" _Hello, Cato_ ," said Clove from the other side of the line.

"Clove," said Cato with an exhale of air. He did not realize the fact that he had held his breath the entire time. Since when he was this nervous over a phone conversation? He was not sure what would the outcome be of this phone call but he longed to see his children again, in any way possible.

" _Let's meet up, Cato. I need to see you_ ," said Clove tersely, " _At Starbucks, tomorrow at one in the afternoon_ ," she continued and with that the line went dead. Cato spluttered at the lack of explanation from his ex-wife and stared at his phone with a poker face.  _What does this all mean_ , he thought to himself. He could not help but feel like a miserable interloper, as if he was looked at like a dirty peasant from his own family.

Setting the phone on the nightstand, he walked out of his room and descended the stairs and glanced at the kitchen, with Peeta no longer over there. The pot that he had been stirring was only emitting a faint, wisp of smoke, like a candle that was blown out of its flame. He entered into the kitchen and grabbed himself a bowl and poured the contents of the pot into his bowl. Looking at the contents, it was a wonder how much talent was amassed into one body like Peeta's. He had managed to cook beef stew and as he was about to put a spoonful of the cookery into his mouth, he saw Peeta outside, sitting down at the porch, staring blankly while eating his meal. Cato, who felt the guilt creeping up to him again since his little tiff towards him, grabbed his bowl, and walked outside of the kitchen to the back door, and sat himself down next to Peeta, who did not seem to perk up from his advance. His eyes were still fixated towards the field outside, overlooking the ocean of trees that covered decorated the plain look.

Cato stared at the young blond, hoping at least a word would be uttered from him, telling him that he was wrong about the pity party he had childishly initiated. But none of that came. He just continued eating in silence and from the looks of it, he was going to stick to that demeanour for a while. Cato who exhaled silently, looked at the fields too, with disappointment clouding his mind. He stared at the stew that was waiting for its spoonful of its good to be eaten by the Adonis. And so he did, he grabbed a spoonful of it and ate it. Had he expected the taste to be the equivalent of a three Michellin star chef coming in, he would not have his eyes bulge out of its sockets.

They ate in a surprising companionable silence, with Peeta and Cato not saying a single word. It was comforting, in spite of all of argument that had sparked by Cato. Cato was feeling full from the stew that he had eaten. It was not the portion that he had taken that made him full but it was the taste that fully satisfied his hunger. Peeta, who had finished his food, probably thought the same way too, from Cato's point of view. He did not move, and instead accompanied the older man as he had finished his meal minutes before Cato did.

After a while, Peeta stood up and almost immediately, Cato stood up and the awkwardness came back. Peeta stared at him in confusion before shrugging it off and entering the kitchen. Cato followed suit and saw the blond washing his bowl with precision.

"I'm sorry," said Cato without hesitation. He looked down at his feet and could only hear the tap running and the clanking of the plates and bowls when Peeta placed the newly washed bowl in the rack.

"Your bowl?" was the reply that came from Peeta.

"Huh?" said Cato, looking up with befuddlement.

"Your bowl," said Peeta, "You're gonna clean that or you want me to do that?" Cato handed him the bowl from his hands to Peeta's and he proceeded to wash it, the silence only being filled with the tap running. The noise was soon gone when Peeta dried his hands and turned the tap off and looked at Cato, whose eyes seemed to find the floor extremely interesting at the moment.

Peeta went over and stood in front of him and said, "Now, what was it you were saying?"

"I'm sorry, about earlier. I was being insensitive and irrational," Cato justified. Peeta merely nodded at the words, but there wasn't any spite evident in his blue eyes. "I'm meeting Clove tomorrow,"

The silence thickened once more.

Peeta did not reply at all towards that sentiment and he only looked at him before touching his forearm and said, "You're forgiven. Goodnight, Cato," said Peeta with a gentle voice and with that, left the kitchen and climbed up the stairs.

** STANDARDS **

Waking up never felt more surreal and nerve-wracking.

Cato woke up to the thunder and pitter-pattering of the rain against the windows of his room. He could feel, instinctively, that this day may not end in a happy note.

After picking himself off from the comfort of the bed – which he regrets doing so – he showered and after drying himself he could already smell the faint scent of freshly baked bread and got dressed quickly. It was going to be a forty-five minute drive from District 12 to the Capitol and he does not want to be late (even though the time was only half past nine in the morning).

Dressed, he went down to the kitchen and was met with Peeta sitting down, taking a spoonful of cereal. Cato entered the kitchen and was met with a nod of acknowledgement from the sitting figure. Cato sat down and began to take a double take as he saw Peeta dressed in a brown shirt with jeans on.

"Going somewhere?" asked Cato after a considerable amount of time was used to prepare himself a jam coated slice of bread.

"The Capitol," said Peeta, "I have some things to collect for dinner tonight, and I'm meeting Gale there," he continued.

"I could give you a ride if you'd like," proffered Cato.

"I was about to walk, but, why not?" said Peeta. Cato's eyes widened at the statement and he chuckled at the joke that he had just incited. Biting the laughter back was hard as he could not believe that Peeta Mellark had just cracked a joke. A legit one at that.

"Did you just... Cracked a joke?" asked Cato. Peeta could not help but chuckle at the sentiment, fairly proud of himself of his ability to start the day with something positive. Taking it as a note of agreement, "Who are you and what have you done to Peeta Mellark?" he muttered to the air.

"That Peeta Mellark probably went through a phase of awkwardness,"

"There you go again. That's the longest sentence I've heard you managed to string up,"

"I'm not mute if that's what you're implying,"

Maybe this day was not going to be ending on a negative note, after all.

** STANDARDS **

The drive was silent. But it was an easing kind of silence.

Cato had never really managed to appreciate that the silence was much needed, even though the nervousness in his heart was getting catatonic. It just gave the man some space as to react properly in the interim. He had not been this nervous. Usually, presentations in a company would give you the chills but Cato was accustomed to that. But this? Well, let's say it was the same as a man who was trying to deal with his phobia towards heights.

Peeta sitting beside him, did not really talk much. He forehead placed onto the window and his eyes transfixed onto the droplets of rain slowly trickling down the window pane to god knows wherever that's going to end up. Cato could only sneak glances at the boy. His mind was basically asking his body and conscious on what an enigma this guy was? What was going through his mind? What's his past? All those were of interest to Cato all of the sudden.

The car drove had arrived at the borders of the Capitol. It was a little after 11 but Peeta was already probably late. He and this "Gale" were probably meeting at an earlier time and it was, in all honesty, a surprise that Peeta had at least a social circle developed in his life. Don't get him wrong, Peeta is friendly, albeit a bit too introverted and slightly aloof, fostering and maintaining relationships were quite a surprise, considering that when they were in college, he was quite closed off.

Cato parked the vehicle with cars basically filling every space of the parking lot. Panem has developed extremely well, no doubt, but if there was one thing they were lacking in, was the space department. Finding one parking space as extremely difficult, and considering it was a Saturday, it only compounded things as the Capitol could probably contain a swarm or a tsunami of humans. The Capitol is what anyone would expect. Flamboyant, eclectic, and colourful that could give San Francisco a run for their money.

Peeta and Cato removed their seat belts and both alighted the vehicle. After locking the said vehicle, they both walked out to the entrance, and barely few metres into the area were they soon in the midst of all the hustle and bustle.

"I think I'll meet you back here in 3 hours if that's alright?" asked Peeta, "Gale and I won't be long, though," he continued.

"Sure," said Cato, "I'll see you later?" Peeta nodded at the words, before the pair split up.

Finding Starbucks was not hard, what was hard was going through the crowd that basically had their minds hypnotized by every single thing that deemed too unnecessary to be paid attention for. It was slightly frustrating, since some of the people had the inconsideration to just stop in the middle of their walk to look at a poster, billboard or a store.

It was already half past 12 when Cato had arrived at the Starbucks that Clove had arranged during their short – and rather abrupt - phone call.

He was prepared to wait half and hour for the lady but that was overshadowed when he saw the lady already sitting there, with her hair tied in a bun and clothes that were not like her. It was, in Cato's words, hobo. It was as if she had been going through the stress through Cato's absence.  _Serves her right_ , Cato thought regarding his untimely eviction from his home. The said lady straightened her posture the moment her eyes had laid on Cato's figure, who merely scowled once she had taken into his appearance. Probably due to the fact that he was quite decent for someone who was basically expelled from the house or the fact that his life was not as shitty as hers. Cato would rather think the former.

Cato sat down opposite her, knowing that after almost half a month since his eviction, the tension only intensified due to the distance.

Clove rummaged through her bag and took out a file and placed it on space of the coffee table that separated the two figures.

What Cato saw when he opened the file was unsurprising.

Their divorce papers.

"So, you really have set your mind on this?" asked Cato. Clove, who wore a placid and indifferent mask, was trying to keep its image etched on her face but merely softened when the question came in, only by an infinitesimal. She nodded.

"It was not meant to be this way," she said.

"Exactly what was it that was not meant to be this way, Clove?" asked Cato with confusion in his tone.

"I owe money. A lot. And I basically sold the house to the debtors and I'm living off my parent's couch," explained Clove, "I can't have you involved,"

"I could have -" but was cut off by Clove.

"I know. But you're too good for this, Cato. I cannot have you involved in this situation. The fact that I married you solely for money rather than love needs to stop between us. It needs to stop before the pair of us – me, most like it – gets greedy. You love me, yes I do know that, but I don't. The children are with me, and I need to take care of them so that I can understand the meaning of love. The love that you gave to me that gave forth to these children, so that's why you should flip to the next page,"

Cato turned the page and saw the bold letters that mocked the entire situation. Endorsement.

"It may seem like it could be us back together rather than going through divorce, but my situation is still in the deep end. I can't have you involved, Cato. I just can't," she said in an imploring tone, "I envy your heart. Out of all the success that you have, most would have ended up too proud but you, broke that stereotype, and I can't further misuse that privilege. It would only ruin me," she said, "But the children matter to you, that is for certain, so I am only requesting one thing from you Hadley, is that you give your indirect support to the children. I don't want to end up selling or giving away our kids for money,"

Cato stared at her in silence, taking the information all in. It did not help however when the only things that processed in his mind were divorce, endorsement, debts, children and Clove. Overwhelming is obviously an understatement. He could fight back, but her reasons were innocent and basically her only road to salvation.

"Pen," muttered Cato.

"What?" said Clove.

"Pen. I need a pen," Clove stared at his ex-husband in disbelief, but heeded his request when she frantically searched her bag for the pen. She tried her best to look composed but it was failing as she took a deep breath and placed her hand on her chest after finally retrieving the pen from her bag. Cato could not help but feel real sorry for the lady that had fallen from grace in the span of a few years.

He took the pen and was guided by Clove on the spaces that needed to be filled with Cato's signature. It was quick for him, as he tried to feel the pain as little as possible. The divorce forms first, endorsements second and finally the dreaded page, the child custody. Cato could not help but feel broken after signing all three forms.

"Where have you been staying?" asked Clove whilst Cato was signing the endorsement papers, "From the looks of our predicament, you seem dapper throughout the situation," she said.

"A friend of mine. In District 12," responded Cato. He omitted the part where he was staying in the Victor's Village, not wanting to dirty nor taint what was left of Clove's pride and dignity.

The signing of the papers brought tears of joy from Clove, clearly heartbroken from all of them and Cato could not help but feel the tears stinging at the back of his eyes, but having a couple cry in the middle in a full to bursting coffee shop would only attract unwanted attention. They were kind, naively so but none of their furnishings would mitigate nor alleviate their situations and hearts.

"Cato," said Clove and Cato already took it as a sign of gratitude, knowing that a burden – contradictingly so – had been lifted off her shoulders. It ended up somewhere, no doubt, but if Cato could give a wild guess, it had landed upon his already.

"Do I get privileges to talk to them?" asked Cato. It was an innocent request, and as their father, he had every right to talk to them, regardless of distance.

"Once a month," answered Clove, "Should give you enough time to recount every detail of your month to them. As to their's as well," Cato nodded and he soon stood up, wanting to avoid every single pain that stabbed his heart in the span of few minutes. He felt like crying, and he would but he had his time to do that once he returned to Peeta's home.

** STANDARDS **

Cato grew impatient.

He really wanted to go home. Nothing more, nothing less.

A small, inaudible chuckle escaped his lips upon hearing his mind. Home. He was referring to Peeta's home. How strange. The fact that in the space of a few weeks, nearing to a month, he had called what Peeta had his, as if they were married. He shook his head at the thought. He was not gay. And he planned to stick to that line. He was not a homophobic, that was certain, but he was not necessarily that open minded either. All that he know was, he was not gay.

Driving the vehicle with the steering wheel in his hand, he drove at a speed that he surprisingly managed to stay within its limits. Peeta, on the other hand, sat next to him, glancing outside with a non-purposeful gaze. He sat with his legs lazily hugged and placed on the seat. Cato nearly smiled at the lassitude exuded from the young, reserved man.

He drove, not sparing time for his frustrated mind to glance at the outdoor that could potentially make his mind lax. He just wanted to be in bed, and turn off whatever had transpired in that day, if only he could.

He was sincerely thankful of the silence that was as thick as any encyclopedia in the world, all thanks to the deactivation of the radio and the reserved nature of Peeta's, who was not stupid to intrude nor bombard him with trivial questions. Not that Peeta was the type to begin with anyway. He finally parked the vehicle at the porch and without giving a second thought, he left the keys dangling in its keyhole, unbuckled his seatbelt and left the confines of the car and sprinted to his room. The only place he could at least call home. For now.

** STANDARDS **

Sobbing nearly became a custom to Cato. As if divorce was not enough to kill the mood, endorsements as well as child custody were added to the killjoy. He had literally lost everything at that after many fitful sleeps, he prayed and hoped that his mind would ever find solace. He had never been this wrecked in his entire life, and he wished that whatever came about on that day was forever a memory.

Stare. That was his new talent. Stare. He stared at the creme coloured ceiling that was sardonic to the mire that he had to live with. He could get a job, but with his current state of mind, searching for one proved impossible at the moment.

Not caring to shower and only donning a tank top with a pair of baggy sweatpants, he waled out of his room then out of the house, with his consciousness still foolishly holding onto the hope that his mind would find peace outside by walking. It was close to winter and the small specks of snow have begun to fall slowly on the ground, radically turning the black asphalt road white. Cato walked around the village with aimless steps and his legs soon stumbled a bench by a fountain, and he sat there quietly. Peeta. Man, what frustration he is. Despite being the only soul that lived there, he could at least provide something to the cause but all he had done was provide his meals. Sometimes, he would bring the food to his bed when he would not leave his room at usual time. It brought a mental smile from Cato, who was appreciative of the effort, but the fact that he managed to not use his voice at all just stupefied his mind.  _Doesn't his throat ever get dry?_

"Ahh, a new neighbour," said a voice that shook Cato's reverie. Cato turned to the voice and saw a man who wore nothing but baggy pants with a white wife beater and around him a navy blue cardigan that covered his arms and the rest of the body from the imminent cold. His hair had reached his neck and stubble growing out of his face. His blue eyes staring languidly at Cato and in his hand, a newly opened bottle of scotch, from where, Cato had no idea.

"Haymitch Abernathy," whispered Cato.

"That would be me, hotshot," said Haymitch drunkedly. It would come asa no surprise that the man was drunk but not drunk enough to the point where his perception was blinded by the works of alcohol. He was still sober enough to string coherent sentences that was for sure, "Now, what's a handsome lad like you doing in the Mellark residence?"

"How'd you-"

"Oh, dear. Do you really think I not know what's going on around this village? There's only like, what 5 residents? You, the Everdeen woman, yours truly," he said while raising the bottle slightly, "the lady who I have no choice to call my therapist, Effie Trinket, who is annoying as hell, by the bye and Peeta Mellark. Now," he said as he sat next to Cato, the intoxicating scent waffling out of him and invading Cato's sensory but not enough to scare him away, "What's a handsome lad like you doing at a place like this? Knowing you, you're probably an old friend of Peeta's? College days? 2008, circa?"

Cato's eyes widened at the facts that he spewed from his mouth without missing a single beat.

"Are you a stalker or something?" said Cato with incredulous eyes.

"Maybe. However, if your neighbour exchanged words with another neighbour about a lad who was in college with him back in the day and also the trouble of you being evicted, which  _you_  had appraised him of to the only neighbour he talks to, it wouldn't be considered stalking now, would it?"

Cato nodded at the words, not denying the fact of his eviction but not of his divorce brushed past his lips had been heard by Peeta. He could not blame him either, taking into account that the kid needed a legitimate reason of his stay.

"Well, young lad. I have not seen the young kid smiling nor talking in more than a sentence since the fire," said Haymitch.

"Fire?"

"Oh, you did not know?" asked Haymitch, "The fire back in 2004 about a huge fire that happened in District 12 along with the explosion at the land mines here? If I'm not mistaken, you were probably 15 back then,"

"17," Cato corrected.

"Well, that faithful day. Peeta, who had an insane crush of the Everdeen woman, was on his way back home, when the Everdeen woman and that Hawthorne's fathers lost their lives during the explosion. Poor them, if you asked me, seeing that Katniss had lost her mother to insanity and her eventual but unforeseen departure, or if I like to call it, abandonment from the district to District 6," he paused, letting the new lowdown soak into Cato's mind, "Well, unfortunately that day, another tragedy struck the district. The Mellark bakery was on fire, gosh that day was gruesome," said Haymitch while shaking his head in a dramatic fashion, "all of the Mellark family, 'cept Peeta of course, died in the fire, leaving the reserved and scarred man as you see today," explained Haymitch, "It was in The Capitol Times the next day. I guess it was what you called it, 'double trouble'," he chortled at his newfound ingenuity.

"I didn't know that the fire was about them. All I know was the mine explosion,"

"Of course you didn't. You upper district residents have little time to care about the lower classes. All with the privileges in your hands. They don't care about people's lives. Only the drama, and I'm surprised having two tragedies that day was not enough to be dubbed drama that they need not place it on the front pafe," mused Haymitch insouciantly before taking a swig of his scotch. Cato did not seemed fazed or hurt by the insinuation, admitting that his whole life was built under the extravagance of money and power, "Still, that was not the worst part,"

_Oh, no. Now, what?_

"The young lad had just got accepted into university. Shame he had no one to tell it to," continued Haymitch with a hint of sadness in his words, "Great people those Mellarks were. Shame that only they were down to one,"

Ouch.

"Anyways, the boy got a better life after that. I went over to offer the village to him, seeing that I was in need of someone to, how should I say it, tame my inebriety. So, that's how the house that he lives in became his. People keep thinking that the Victor's Village was only for people who had found success beyond other people's measure, but no one has the innocent thought that the village was only for the pure hearted. Shame the previous owners who lived here died before the words were even spread to us. Those were the days," he said while fisting the alcohol bottle in the air, as if he was cheering to the spirits above. Haymitch sighed in content, "Days where District 12 was a decent place to live in,"

Cato kept silent throughout the whole conversation. He could not help but feel really sad for the young man. A man who had been stripped of the comfort of his family, home and wellbeing.

"Anyways, judging from your problem, I can tell that someone just got divorce," said Haymitch. Cato looked at him, "Oh, you think I don't know that face? I was raised basically an orphan when those two left me, until my success and regret came, I have found consolation in the hands of alcohol, and shamefully that obnoxious Trinket lady of a therapist," grumbled Haymitch at the last part. Cato could not hold the chuckle that escaped his lips regarding Effie.

"Yea, divorced like a week ago,"

"Oh, that sucks, seeing as you're the one who didn't do anything wrong,"

"How did you-"

"Kid, I know a douchebag or a bitch when I see one. Is either the right word to describe it?"

"Selfish is more like it,"

"I stand by my statement,"

Silence followed suit and it was comforting and heartening, knowing that someone was there to at least give a gist of Cato's story and having a soul to confide to.

"Anyways, ever since you came in, the boy's visits have been strangely positive. Knowing that boy is a virgin, I guess he has finally found it,"

"Found what?" asked Cato. The next two words brought more confusion and if he dare say, terror, when Haymitch said it without twitching his eyebrows or stuttering.

"Young love,"

** STANDARDS **

Dinner was awkward.

It was a blessing that Peeta was oblivious to the Cato's and Haymitch's conversation by the fountain, much less how he was not at least disgusted and if he dare say, flattered that Peeta was harbouring feelings for him.

They ate in silence and Cato could not help but sneak glances at the man in front of him eating. He was not that bad looking. He was short, yes, but he had blond hair that shines platinum under bright sunlight, jaw defined beyond comprehension and lips that were thin but not dramatically thin to the point of invisibility, and eyes blue as the ocean. All of them complimented his complexion well, and his body was stocky, but not totally. He was well built and Cato could not help but feel like a pervert for inspecting the young man in front of him.

"So, I met Haymitch," started Cato.

And Cato could not help but feel the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"He was nice, despite being a drunkard," Peeta said nothing, and Cato felt like he was treading a dangerous zone.

"I guess," said Peeta slowly, suspicion lacing his words.

"I heard about your accident 11 years ago," he continued.

And that's when the spoon that was in Peeta's hand clanked onto its bowl. Cato's eyes widened at the drastic change in behaviour that he could not contain the "Peeta?" uttered from his mouth. Peeta stood up and left the kitchen, abandoning the bowl of half-eaten porridge and headed upstairs to the room.

_Nice job, Hadley._

Sighing in contrition, he stood up, with him too abandoning his meal and washed both of the bowls. He dried his hands and he could not help but take hesitant steps when he was heading towards and climbing the stairs. He felt like he had stepped into dirty waters. What right was he given to say or bring up people's past? Who was he to be given such audacity to affront him of the thing that scarred his life? And those question only made Cato feel shittier that before.

He contemplated on going into Peeta's room, and offering him an apology for bringing up something as dark as his family's death. He found himself standing outside Peeta's mahogany door and the moonlight was the only source of luminescence in that corridor. He could hear muffled sobs from the other side and could feel his heart clench at the sounds. Peeta crying was the last thing he needed to induce and Cato could not help but mentally abuse himself as a congratulatory prize.

Not bearing to bring more pain about his past, he went back to his room with light footsteps and closed the door with care, hoping not to rouse the boy's crying spell. He laid down on the bed, with his body facing the window and back to the door. Who knew that the reserved one was actually a troubled, emotional man? Guess looks are deceiving. With that conclusion, he closed his eyes, hoping tomorrow would only cement today's events as a mistake.

** STANDARDS **

Peeta could not sleep.

Close his eyes, and tame his sobs he could but letting go of the panic that was sticking to him like glue, near impossible.

He uncovered the sheets and walked desperately to Cato's room, hoping that it was not locked and his fears and woes would ebb. Mustering a deep breath, he opened the door slowly, only to be met with Cato's lying figure on the bed, facing the window. On a thankful note, the sleeping figure was not disturbed by the opening and closing of the door. With feather-like footsteps he walked over to the untaken part of the bed and laid beside him. He was not stirred by the dip of the mattress, which Peeta could not help but praise himself despite the hysteria suffocating him. With his head making contact with the soft pillow, Peeta's eyes ultimately grew heavy and he finally slept.

The terror was soon gone before he even knew it.

** STANDARDS **

Cato's eyes opened at the sudden tug of his torso. With sleep induced eyelids opening, his mind was able to decipher that he was wrapped by someone. With tenderness, he turned and his face was met with Peeta's relaxed and sleeping face. Cato did not seemed to mind at the man's intrusion, and he did not let go of the man's arm draped over his torso. Instead, he hugged him back, and placed his head on top of Peeta's hair and took a whiff of the natural scent of his scalp. It was of sandalwood and Cato could not descry what he was actally doing, all he knew was that his body was gravitating towards the young boy and for once after all the things that he had to endure in the span of a month, he had never so much at ease.

** STANDARDS **

"So, what are you going to do today?" asked Cato while eating breakfast.

"Don't know," said Peeta with a shrug. We could always go to the Capitol.

Things were, if one could say, easing up a bit. It was a friends with benefits situation. Like any other friends with benefits situation, both of them have no commitment between each other. No strings attached. None. Just a mutual relationship where sex is something they do all the time if they could and they sleep together. Most friends with benefits last about a few months and there would be a slim chance both of them would alienate each other, some would end up being together and the rest would just remain friends. As one would repeat one's definition towards this term, this stereotypically last for a few months.

Try 5 years.

Now with a stable job in District 2, friendly souls as companions – who soon became friends with Peeta as well – endorsements that supported his children along with his ex-wife still on the road to recompensing with her loan sharks, and conversations with his children once in a while as promised, Cato's life was better than when had to sign the papers. Peeta, who had offered generously the guest room as his official room – even though they now sleep in the same bed every night – sealed the idea of both of them being roommates.

If roommates ever have friends with benefits, that's for sure.

It started off with a hug, then repeated cycles of sharing beds together which eventually culminated to them dry humping each other and sex with no intimate agenda between them. Peeta was open with sexuality and he was not ashamed of it, though he had no reason to voice it out to anybody. Everything was easing up.

If only Cato would have at least feelings towards the relationship, and was at least open minded towards the relationship.

"We could go hang with the others for a game of basketball," suggested Cato, "With pizza as dinner,"

"Sounds good," he said with his attention solely towards the sink and dishes. It was a sad cycle, in Peeta's opinion. Whenever both of them share something that was a little out of the norm for a bromance relationship, Cato would just shrug it off like it was just dust of your clothes, and Peeta had always wanted to say otherwise, but it was for Cato's sake that he was holding on to. The arguments that they have regarding Cato's sexuality all ended in futility when both of them have sex, which eventually led Peeta to be slightly passive-aggressive towards it. He was brooding but he was lucky that the reserved nature that he had harboured as a connate feature was enough to give him the slip.

Getting ready was easy for them to head for their weekly gathering of some old fashioned convival basketball game, and they both drove with the radio blaring. A major 180 turn since their incipient days of living together. Cato was always laid back, in large part with his new job that he had gotten 4 years ago. It was majorly different from the job he had previously, but it provided some slack as he got to work from home, whom Cato so humbly named it.

They parked at the sports' center without any trouble. The sports center was built in the size of a four stadiums – which if you were in President Snow's shoes, he would say 'Why not?' - and they had every sports activity Panem could host. It was a communal property, where everyone could release the tensions and create gregarious relationship between one another.

The basketball court had become sort of a home to Cato's friends, as many of the owners recognize them as regular users of the court. Marvel, Finnick, Woof, Blight, and many others congregate to have a round against each other.

Cato was fine with playing along with the others, but was not fine with two things. Finnick, who was a pain in the neck and plain annoying when he teases Cato and Peeta, whom always took his time and ended up being the last in line when they all head to the showers and locker room, with reasons Cato have said, was to not bring any suspicion from anyone regarding their relationship.

They played until their booking session of the court had ended and it was getting late as well. With them swaety and shirtless, they unanimously decided to call it a day and return home. With praises and light conversations filling the hallway to the locker room, it was of course no suprise Peeta was walking alone far away in the back and Cato walking along with the crowd, sharing congenial moments with his friends and strangers who felt the need to join in the fun of playing. The others did not mind of their presence and welcomed them openly, who were awarded with appreciative glances and mutual correlations.

The sounds of the shower spray, opening and closing of the lockers filled the room and the men unashamedly stripped their clothing and headed into the showers with their toiletries and towels in their hands. Some had left already, with farewells exchanged and smiling faces etched on their faces. Cato and Finnick's locker were placed next to each other, and in tradition, Finnick would usually shove the older man playfully. Cato, who grumbled at first, eventually gave in the playfulness and shoved him too.

Only it become a little too forward when Finnick grabbed him at all the wrong places.

"HEY!" exclaimed Cato. He uncharacteristically pushed the younger man back, fuming at the smug grin Finnick was giving, "You see that, he was groping me!"

"C'mon dude, it was just a touch," lied Finnick smoothly. The others shrug it off, not really caring for the matter.

"Ignore him, Hadley. He's just teasing. He always has been like that," said Chaff. Still fuming at the move he had just made, he took his towel and a soap bar from his locker and slammed it shut, walking impatiently towards the showers, but not without bumping shoulders with Finnick. He entered the showers and ignored the naked bodies that were showered with water and lathered with soaps. He took a vacant spot and let the warm water cascade down his Adonis like body. For a 33 year old, man he was still looking quite dapper for his young age. Most would show some sign of regression but he was glad to be apart of the some category.

That moment was soon overshadowed when he heard a whistling tone and a naked Finnick with a shit-eating grin embossed on his face, "What's wrong, Hadley? Didn't like our little intimate moment? You and Peeta have been like living together for what, 5 years?" punctuated Finnick at the last part, "That's great control on your hormones if you ask me,"

Unable to hold his anger any longer, he charged towards the young man and spat out the words, "I'm not gay or a fag, Odair. Now shut it,"

"Leave him alone, Hadley. He's not worth it," advised one of the inmates in the shower.

"Oh, I think a little fun is in order, don't you think? What says you, Peeta?" jeered Finnick.

Peeta only faced the wall in front of him, with waters pouring down his body without stopping. Ignoring the words, he continued standing with his head bowed down to the floor and body now supported with his hands on the wall.

"I'm out of here," said Cato. He left, with the towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist. He could hear the castigations of the other men towards the dirty blond, which echoed from, "What's up with you, Odair?" to "You got something against gay men, Finnick? So what if Hadley was one?".

Wearing his clothes quickly, he left the building with his sports bag and left the sports complex without waiting for Peeta for home.

** STANDARDS **

Peeta did not move from his position.

Even when he was left alone in the locker room, he did not seem to mind the loneliness. He was used to it by now, and he was not going to let it get the best of him anyway. Turning the shower knob off, he walked out of the hall and was unsurprised with him being the only soul in the room. He treaded carefully, not wanting to slip and fall on the wet floor and opened his locker. Dressing up meticulously, he grabbed his sports bag and checked himself out of the complex.

He was also unsurprised of the extent his temper would go, as he was left alone in the Capitol. Sighing, he went over to Gale, who by now would have finished his shift and could offer him a free ride, since it was the weekend and it was a custom to Gale that he would visit Katniss and his family. Walking up the steps with the bag in hand, he went over to the store and saw the tanned figure checking himself out of the building.

"Hey, Peety," greeted Gale.

"Hey, Gale," replied Peeta, "You heading to 12?"

"Yep, just finished my shift. Where's Cato?" he asked.

"Left. Didn't bother to wait for me either. It's okay, though,"

Gale scoffed, "I beg to differ. C'mon, Peet. You and him have been together for nearly 5 years and he hasn't gone steady with you. I'm surprised you let the guy in,"

They walked towards Gale's truck, with Gale's chattering filling the silence. Peeta did not mind it, as some of the words were true, and he mentally scolded himself for not being able to do anything to affront the situation. He had feelings for the man and he was getting tired of the unrequited love that he had been solely neglected for the past 14 years of his life.

They drove with Gale parking outside Katniss' house and Gale turning off the car. He glanced at the blond man and said, "You need to do something about it, Peet,"

"I hear you, Gale,"

"If he doesn't want to hear it, then you need to cut it off. Period," it hurt Peeta hearing of the outcome that was going to be resulted if things went south. However, deep in his heart, he knew that 5 years was a gruelling length of time and he was not getting younger anytime soon.

Visiting Katniss along with Gale became a tradition since the trio shared the same loss many years ago, and Katniss and Gale both felt more remorse looking at Peeta, knowing that he had lost an entire family towards the tragedy that struck upon him. Katniss, who may have been as reclusive as Peeta, at least had the idea of adventure when she took her time to go out and experience Panem, just like Gale, all with the intention of letting go. They were both proud when Peeta had finally found someone he loved, but were disappointed of the treatment received by Cato towards the young man and the tolerance that Peeta had all these years.

Saying their goodbyes for the week, Peeta walked home, with Gale driving off to the streets to meet his mother and siblings.

And Peeta opened his front door, his mind resolute.

** STANDARDS **

Cato sat down on the sofa waiting for Peeta. He did not need to act out of line in front of him. Especially with the words that made him look like a complete hypocrite in front, not only Peeta but friends and strangers alike. He buried his face in his hands and breathed deeply, hoping to pull himsself together over his actions.

The front door opened and Peeta entered, with a sports bag in his hand. Cato could not keep a firm gaze with Peeta's eyes. He could not help but feel embarrassed at his actions that it had drowned him to hang his head low and look elsewhere.

Peeta laid the bag down and went over to the kitchen. He inspected the counter and found the lack of a certain pizza box that someone had agreed to call over and order. Returning back to the living room, where the older man seemed like a dumb mule, he asked in a firm tone, "The pizza?"

The older man simply shook his head, indicating either his forgetfulness or his neglect.

"Great,"

He picked his bag, grumbling mentally at the lack of proactivity of his other half that he had yearned to call. He unzipped the bag and emptied the contents, which mainly consisted of clothes, into the washing machine. Filling up the machine with the adequate amount of detergent and softener, he close the lid shut and pressed the start icon button, beginning its wash cycle.

He clamoured down the stairs and saw Cato still sitting on the sofa, expecting a lecture or words from Peeta. Ignoring the brooding man, he went over the kitchen and reluctantly cooked dinner.  _For once, I just want to not cook dinner._

He cut the veggies and heated the bread for a crunchy texture. Preparing two plates, Cato soon joined besides him and the two ate in silence.

It was 5 years ago all over again.

Finishing their meal, Cato sat at the stool, looking at Peeta washing the utensils and plates with an expectant look. Peeta did not pay heed to him and instead once finished, he looked at Cato and he felt like the words were caught in his throat and with that instinct, he climbed up the stairs, with misery and fear crippling him.

He was supposed to cut the tie that was established between them. It was pure nonsense seeing one man using him as a mean of sexual gratification. And he felt shitty seeing someone string him up like that, not wanting to fulfill the only thing Peeta had so desired for a long time. A sense of closure.

Entering his room, with his clothes stripped and body rinsed once more, he went over to his bed with a pair of boxer briefs worn. He took out his laptop and browsed cursorily, hoping that the confidence to break it all off would soon come.

** STANDARDS **

Cato climbed up the stairs and took it that the both of them were okay. He could have gone into his room, but seeing Peeta angry and giving him the cold shoulder was something he did not want to see. He genuinely cared for the young man, despite saying about not having any strings attached. He just did not like the quandary that he had entailed himself into.

Opening the door, he saw the said man laying down with his back leaned against the headboard, eyes planted onto the laptop screen. Taking it as a sign of something positive, he entered his room and stripped all his clothing and joined him in bed. This was how they slept together.

"We're done," said Peeta shakily. Cato felt his heart drop upon hearing and listening to the two words that brushed his lips. His eyes widened at the words and looked at the man that was beginning to tremble from his words, "We're done," he repeated, this time with confidence that was boosted by the shock and silence that enveloped the air.

"Peeta, I... You know I'm not comfortable.. You know I'm not gay,"

"Yeah, but I am," interjected Peeta without remorse.

"You're not, Peeta. We're just.."

"Just what, Cato?"

"Experimenting," said Cato after a moment of silence.

"5 years of experimenting and I have come to my conclusion. I. Am. Gay," he said with a firm tone, "You and I have sex nearly every day of the week and kissed even. Tell me that you don't feel anything,"

"I'm not going to get into this," said Cato as he left the bed and put his boxers back on.

"Yeah, 'coz you won't admit that you're a fag," he spat venomously. Cato turned at the man whom he could not believe was Peeta. It was definitely a different side to the man and as much as he would tease him for it, it was something that Peeta had no energy to joke or prevaricate about, "Just go to your room, Cato,"

"Fine, I can do that," he said as he left and slammed the door, leaving Peeta with watery tears brimming in his eyes.

** STANDARDS **

Sleep was not coming to Cato at all.

He changed his position numerous times and none of his attempts rendered him a peaceful sleep. He glanced at the nightstand and saw the two framed photos. One showing him with his two children that he had printed a few years ago and the other photo outlining him and Peeta when they went for a vacation in another country. He needed Peeta. Desperately.

Standing up, he left his room and strolled towards Peeta's room, hoping that sleeping with him would give him the sleep that he yearn for throughout the night. Opening the door, he saw Peeta's back, sleeping peacefully, but knowing his position, the sleep was not a comfortable one and Peeta had always had a knack for steeling himself against many hardships.

But this hardship was something Cato want him to avoid.

Without hesitation, he joined the man in bed and slid his arm into Peeta's covered torso. The younger man stirred and immediately felt the discomfiture and leapt out of his bed, bringing a sigh from Cato.

"Hey, look. I'm sorry. I just don't want to start anything,"

"Neither do I Cato. That's why I'm ending it,"

"I don't know what you want from me, Peeta,"

"I just want you to accept that you are gay. That what you have said was wrong of you. You know Finnick teases people. He has always been like that, and you know that as well as I do," said Peeta pleadingly, "Did you have to go through such extremes as to doing that in front of your friends?"

The quietness took over and as much as he felt that Peeta was bringing Cato's thick skull to thinking, the older man plainly said, "I'm not gay. I'm a working man, with children. I have no problems with you being gay and I am-"

"ALSO GAY!" continued Peeta, "Cato Hadley is gay!"

"I'm bi," he said stubbornly after not retorting back to Peeta.

Nodding his understanding, Peeta said, "Great. Well, why don't you go and live your bi life, Cato and make sure you find happiness there," he marched towards the door and opened it, "Go," he commanded.

Incensed, he picked his clothes that were left on the floor and went over to door, "You don't think I will find a girl. Watch me," he said and was answered with a door slamming in his face.

Sighing in sadness, Peeta laid back on his bed and could feel the tears pouring out of his eyes. For something that was deemed right, he had never felt more wrong in his life.

** STANDARDS **

Cato ran down the stairs in anger and went out of the house, and finally settled in the driver seat of his car. He was about to turn on the gas and drive over to some crappy bar and prove Peeta wrong that he could get a girl. He wanted so badly to tell Peeta and broadcast the message that he was not gay.

Only that he did not do any those things.

Because he was gay. He could not deny it. He loved women, but that was it. He loved women, but in the past 5 years he had never, not once find or sought out another woman in his life after Clove. Why would he anyway? Considering he had two wonderful children who would be graduating in a couple more years, and a guy. A guy who had completed him in many ways no other woman could have offered even if they had the temerity to do so.

Explains why the photos of him and Peeta decorated the interior. And the shared clothes they have, and the fact that Cato had just left with Peeta's shirt, which scented heavily of sandalwood. He stared at the outside, which and pondered on the inevitable reality that had struck upon him. Can someone who is straight turn into gay in the course of a few years? Could someone like him, who had incited a friends with benefits relationship change someone without even realizing it? Could someone, who spent all his copious amount of time with the same man nearly every second and minute of the day, be that sensitive when someone prods on a topic regarding his sexuality seeing that the person he had been frittering his time was with a male?

The only response he could ever get was the silence of the night that was embellished with the sounds of the crickets.

If anyone could get the household needs done, it would be Peeta. If anyone wanted dinner to be prepped and done, it would be Peeta. If he needed anyone to go out with on a walk or a hike or even a cruise trip to Tahiti, it would be Peeta.

Peeta Mellark.

He loved Peeta Mellark. But he was scared. Terrified.

He was scared of society.

Sighing in defeat, he left the car and proceeded to the front door. On his way up the stairs, he stripped his clothing, leaving his boxers on and entered into Peeta's room. He was not asleep when he found him. Instead, he was in the same orientation when he first entered the room, sans the laptop. His fingers were fiddling with the comforter and his lips pursed. Cato entered the room, and joined the man next to him on bed once more. The younger man did not seemed to retaliate of his presence and they both sat in silence.

Cato wracked his mind to reason with Peeta, and after waiting to compose his words – which he failed miserably, however, - he said, "I don't want to be gay, Peeta,"

Cato almost winced after hearing the words when he heard the young man replied, "I don't want to either, Cato. But it's like I have no control over what I'm doing. It feels like my body has an attraction and mind of its own. I love you, and that has been proven from the way I have done all the small things a housewife would do for her husband without argument or retaliation," Peeta then faced him, "I'm not asking you to come out, Cato. I'm asking you to accept that you are one, just to me and yourself. That's all I'm asking,"

Cato ruminated on the words. He had to admit that all those words radiated truth and honesty and he eventually settled with, "But my kids, Peeta. These endorsements are important to them. I want them to never be in the footsteps of their father,"

"Yeah, but you're divorced. For 5 years, if I might add. I had no one, since I was 16. That was 14 years ago, and I had no one to look up to, no one to come out to, no one to tell who my first crush was, only financially supported by Haymitch who acted like a surrogate father despite his sorrow alcohol drowning," said Peeta, "Think about it. What happened when your one of your children turns 18, finally fresh out of high school, ready to face the world but struggling with his sexuality, and the only person he could ever look up to for moral support besides his mother had been spewing derogatory terms at other homosexual men when in reality, he is also a gay man. Makes him feel sad that his father did not turn out to be the role model he deserved," a pause circulated the air, "His father who will only learn shame,"

Cato looked down at the skin of Peeta's and could only feel ashamed of the impact one man could do to this life but was not open minded to realize it. Eyes were getting teary seeing the man before him was hitting all the points in an astute manner.

"Maybe you're not gay, which you seemed to pretty much made it clear, but what if only," he hesitated, "What if your feelings were only for me and not other men? Listen closely, Cato" he said after turning his body to face the Adonis sculpted man, "I don't need you to come out at all. I don't need that. What I need you to promise is that you would stop making hateful comments. You have no idea how painful it is to hear all that. In front of your kids, in front of people, especially in front of me. If you keep on the way you are, Cato, I'm not afraid to say it's really over. I just need you to understand, Cato," he said, eyes now riveted with Cato's, hoping his plea would be enough to reconcile the obstacle between them. This was the most Peeta had been vocal about his needs, even the part about his family too, "Please, Cato. Be my family," he begged.

Cato looked at the man before him. He was not just any man that he could give promises to. It was the man he truly loved and without hesitation, he whispered, "I understand, Peeta," before pressing his lips onto the young boy's lips. They kissed languidly and slowly, with every ounce of emotions poured between them, declaring Cato's steadfastness towards the promise they have erected between them. The kiss was getting heated and Peeta and Cato could not help but feel elated of the progress they made as a couple, with understanding being their key factor.

They broke apart before Peeta nuzzled his face into the crook of Cato's neck and hear the older man saying the three words he had waited since his college years to hear.

"I love you, Peeta,"

And he sobbed.

* * *

**A/N: Can you believe how long this was for me to compose it properly?! The amount of breaks I need to see whether the flow was alright. Oh lord, I may need a break from one-shots, even if this was the first one. Imma stick to writing Return or Medical Love for a while. But there will be another one-shot entitled Extinct coming soon, but it's still in the drawing board stage, 'coz I don't really know whether I want to write it in a one shot form or a chapter-by-chapter manner. (You are free to comment or review about that part.) Anyways, check my profile frequently if there's any updates.**

**Sorry about the long wait everyone, I really am. Not gonna lie, I took my time to write this and I was being precise about how I wanted it to go.**

**I will be writing Return (most likely) until I'm done and then I will focus on a new story.**


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